Dark Room
I sat, working on a house in Minecraft, as I would normally on Sunday. My eyes pinned themselves to the brightened screen. Other than the occasional click, the room was dead silent. I kept my laptop muted, just in case something like an ad popped up, and played annoying sounds. The day shifted into night, no interruptions, nothing. As peaceful as it was, I was in some, strange, and almost. . . "Blank" way, drawn to just sit, and let my hands work themselves on the keyboard. I didn't try to think. I just tried to sit, and wait for something, anything, to happen. I guess I got what I wished for. My screen, first, acted normal. Then, like the fog on a cold day, shifted into a dark state. The screen still displayed the game I had been playing before, but the brightness had changed drastically. The graphics remained a shade of gray, while I fumbled around, trying for all I was worth to fix it. I could do nothing. I just receded to sitting, letting it slowly darken. I checked my power cord, it was plugged in. The brightness on my settings was as high as I could turn it. I decided it was my computer itself, nothing more than a simple mistake in the programming. So, realizing there was nothing to do but wait for the machine to turn to its normal self. It darkened, but never changed. Until sound started to play through the speakers. I checked frantically to see if I had bumped the "mute" button, but the small light above it still softly glowed in an orange tone. I panicked, I hated loud noises. I cautiously looked to the screen, not expecting what happened next. A white square, the size of an ad, blared in the square middle of the screen. I bolted faster than I ever have down the stairs. I was greeted by an empty, pitch black, kitchen. The tiniest glint of light caught my eye. It was the stove clock. The numbers 5:56 showed on the face, in the same eerie font as binary. I tried to slowly, cautiously, find a light switch. My hands slid against the wall and fell on a switch panel. I flicked the second to last of the six. Turning on the main lighting system. The house was empty. The only other life form in the vast space, were the fish in the tank above my couch. I panicked. How can my whole family just go missing like that? Were the words that flashed across my thoughts. Then, I bolted back upstairs. The sounds had stopped. I opened my door. The lights had been switched off. My eyes drifted to my computer screen. Nothing could prepare me for what I saw. I was up on the screen, moving. This, was hands down, a live feed. I stare in shock, not noticing the grizzly scene creating the background. On my shoulder, I felt a drop of warm fluid. My eyes forced themselves to glance upward. The very thing I was dreading. My family to not return, was forced in front of my eyes. Every last one of my siblings, seven in total, and my parents. Hung, limply and bleeding, tied tightly to rope upon the ceiling. The ropes were covered in warm blood, and soaked to the core. I felt myself nearly throw up, but my gut clenched to tight to let myself. I fell back, convinced this was my end as well. The idea didn't last long. I felt a hand brush across my face. "Shame, shame, the prettiest has to live. If I was calling the shots, I would just smash in your head with an axe. But no, the boss said that would be doing you a favor." Whispered a smooth, normally toned voice. Not a single trace of fear was in the word. This, was the killer. Before I could come to think of replying, I blacked out. The next thing I felt was sharp pain in my arm. My head whipped around. The flesh was cleanly priced with a thin blade. The blade from a scalpel. The handle had been detached. My body was rested on a gray, blood stained bed. I was unsure if I was dead or alive. The pain that was beginning to burst in my arm told me I was alive. I was placed in a dark room. I was unsure of were, but I knew this is were the killer had me stored. Most likely for his "Boss". I sat up, only to be greeted by a pain in my elbow. The pain was from the blade, no wonder the placed it there, they don't want me up. I sat down, waiting for my killer to finally, slit my throat. I gave up. My family was gone, and I'm a loser anyway. I sit thinking. Then, I'm interrupted. A foul smelling rag greets my face. It was covered in chloroform, and I black out. Once again, I wake in another, dark room. This time, the blade taken out of my arm. This must mean I have to move around, I guess. I spring up, not noticing the amount of hallway I'm proceeding to walk through. Door, after door, I see the same thing. Pitch black rooms. The place seems endless, until I come to a door at the end of the long hall. I consider just walking back to were I was being stored, but some kind of new fear forces me to open the door. I'm pushed in. Someone, or, something, had been following me. Me. A little girl, near 14 years of age. Trapped in some confusing series of rooms. My thoughts are interrupted. The "Something" speaks the last words I will ever hear. - "You were worthless anyway." A sharp pain in my back, then, like the rooms. Pitch Black. Category:Mental Illness